


Strangetimes, or: How Glenn learnt to stop worrying and love the effects of sex pollen

by magichamster



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, Glenn is totally having a Big Gay Freakout, Infidelity, M/M, Sex Pollen, possible dubcon, scientists do some creepy stuff, shameless porn, sweariness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-17
Updated: 2013-07-23
Packaged: 2017-12-12 03:35:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/806716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magichamster/pseuds/magichamster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt at twd_kinkmeme: While out on their own securing the perimeter or getting food, either Glenn or Daryl (or replace "Daryl" with "Rick" throughout this prompt if you prefer) get dosed with some kind of sex pollen or supernatural illness that makes him feel like he will absolutely die if he doesn't have sex immediately. There's no help in sight and so the unaffected party feels like they have no choice but to save the afflicted person. Very rough sex and multiple orgasms go down, and then afterwards they deal with the consequences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Judith was sick - that was what started it. Colic, Herschel said, nothing too serious but they needed medicine for her. Their supplies were low, as usual, and the nearby nursery where they'd been for formula had been overrun by walkers. It had been Glenn who'd had the idea about the research facility, and if he could go back in time and kick his past self for suggesting it, he would.

Going just the two of them made sense - Glenn was quick and Daryl was pretty much a badass. Plus they'd gone on the motorbike, which was super cool, even if he'd needed to cling to Daryl's waist to stop falling off (and Glenn had not enjoyed that at all, no matter what his subconscious said).

It was a stupid mistake, but it wasn't something he usually had to worry about - that there could be a danger other than walkers or crazy psychos calling themselves Governor (and how narcissistic was that dick, anyhow?). He hadn't even realised it was a spray until he'd squirted himself in the face with it, and then he'd been blinded and coughing and really freaking out that he'd just got a face full of anthrax or something. Daryl had been his usual quick-thinking self, barely pausing to cover his own face before grabbing Glenn's shirt and dragging him down the corridor. He could see now, so that was good - it was a bit less of a shock when Daryl shoved him into the shower with his clothes on and freezing cold water rained down. It was a clean room - thankfully the procedure here was much less explodey than at the CDC - generally just a room full of showers, like he was back at high school, and this was clearly the best way to deal with the matter. He hadn't died yet, so that was a good sign, wasn't even displaying any symptoms other than feeling hot and a little woozy.

"Should probably take your clothes off," Daryl drawled after a while, smirk on his face. And, okay, maybe Glenn had been standing gormlessly under the spray, his clothes sopping wet and clinging to him, but still. He could've been _dying_. Nakedness seemed like a good idea though, and he'd already ripped off his t shirt and was halfway through undoing his jeans when he noticed Daryl was still there, an unreadable expression on his face (not that he was usually an open book, but Glenn thought he was beginning to understand him just a little).

"I'll go get some soap," and his voice was lower than usual, kind of growly like a sexually frustrated bear, and Glenn did not need that image in his head.

Glenn barely registered him leaving, too busy enjoying the cool feel of the water on his burning skin. With Daryl gone, he removed his jeans and boxers, sighing as his erection sprang free of the fabric - and holy shit, when had that happened? He stared at the boner, confused, trying to remember if he'd run into any sexy naked ladies in the last five minutes. All he could recall was rushing here after spraying the mystery jizz in his face...oh shit, had he just ingested some kind of magic Viagra spray? Why would anyone even invent that?

He glared at his cock, willing it down. Last thing he wanted was Daryl to come back and find him with a hard-on strong enough to bash walker skulls (though that would be handy, if only he was a little taller). And his traitorous cock did not just jump at the thought of Daryl, that was just too weird.

Only one thing for it, since the cold shower obviously wasn't working. Time for the quickest wank in history.

He thought of the usual things - Maggie, of course, her smile and her breasts and the feel of her legs wrapped around his waist. Occasional glimpses of Beth, though the thought of Maggie's reaction quickly killed that line of thought. Old remembered snatches of internet porn - threesomes and moresomes, lesbian orgies and dildos and girls that could ejaculate. He came pretty quickly, something he'd blame on the drugs and the lack of recent stimulation (kind of hard to get privacy at a prison). But then things had gotten really weird.

He hadn't been able to decide at the time which was stranger - the fact that his cock was still achingly hard, or turning around to see Daryl staring at him, wordlessly holding a bar of soap. And Glenn was beginning to understand just what those long looks were about.

"Couldn't choose a better moment?" Daryl muttered eventually, gesturing to Glenn's come-covered hand that was still gripping his cock.

Panic outweighed embarrassment. "There's something wrong. I think that spray - fuck." He was touching himself again without even meaning to, so desperate for release. "I need-" He hadn't known how to finish the sentence so had left it hanging, watching as Daryl stepped closer, pausing to out the soap to one side.

"What?" Daryl murmured, that same look on his face, that mixture of suppressed desire and self-loathing, and this was not going to end well. "What do you need, kid?"

And somehow that was all it had taken. He knew he'd moved first, that Daryl had approached him like he was a skittish animal, that Glenn had pounced and grabbed and taken what he suddenly wanted. Later he'd feel guilty, because it was highly possible he'd just wanted a warm body and Daryl had -

Daryl had just gone with it, let Glenn pull him under the spray, press their bodies together, rubbing his cock against the denim of his jeans. Glenn tugged at the sleeveless shirt and pants, almost ripping them off, desperate for skin and warmth and touch. It was Daryl who started the kiss, almost tender at first, and then Glenn had taken over, pushing hard against the other man, doing his best attempt to climb into Daryl tongue-first. He pressed Daryl against the wall, pausing only to remove the other man's boxers, the last remaining piece of clothing. And holy shit, Daryl was hard, his cock sliding against Glenn's as they stood together in the shower. It was good but not enough - his arousal had turned to desperation as every nerve ending in his body seemed to scream in frustration - and he must have vocalised the thought (either that or Daryl could add mind reader to his already endless list of skills) as Daryl pulled away just enough to sink to his knees in front of Glenn.

Okay, so it may have been the drugs in his system, but Glenn's pretty sure it was the best blowjob he'd ever had (not that he had a huge amount to compare it to, but it was pretty goddamn epic). Daryl licked up the shaft, swirled his tongue around the tip before taking the head of the cock in his mouth and sucking hard. Glenn steadied one hand on the wall in front of him, tangled his other hand in Daryl's short brown hair, and slowly pushed his length into the warm open mouth. Fuck, and Daryl had let him do it, sucked around the length of his cock as he thrust in fully, the head of his cock hitting the back of Daryl's throat. Daryl just kept sucking as Glenn began to fuck his mouth, applying the slightest hint of teeth and tongue to make his legs shake, and using a hand to fondle his balls. Glenn was probably moaning loud enough for all the walkers in the city to hear, but he couldn't bring himself to care. It just felt too damn good. Then Daryl swallowed, reached a hand round to Glenn's ass to pull him in even further, and Glenn was coming harder than he could remember in his whole life.

It still wasn't enough.

Daryl looked smug as he stood up, rubbing his lips in something like satisfaction, and it was only when Glenn pressed him to the wall again, still hard cock rubbing against water slick thigh, that the look turned to worry.

"Maybe we should find out what this shit is," Daryl murmured, "get Herschel to have a look at you."

"No!" and it wasn't just the thought of Herschel seeing him like this that made him cry out. "Please, Daryl," he was whining, he was sure of it, but he needed, he needed- "Fuck me," Glenn heard himself breathe, watching Daryl's eyes widen. Then it all came spilling out, this litany of pleas, begging for Daryl's cock in his ass, for things he hadn't even thought of before. And whatever resolve Daryl had ever had just crumbled.

"Put your hands on the wall." That growl again, the sex roughened voice sending further jolts of pleasure through Glenn's body. Daryl moved behind him, strong hands helping Glenn into position, lifting his ass in the air until he was on his tiptoes, exposed. Glenn looked around to see Daryl sucking determinedly on his own fingers, and the reminder of what that mouth could do was almost painful.

"Please," Glenn whispered again, trying not to focus too hard on the broken look on Daryl's face. "Just - please."

And then he felt it, the burn and stretch as a spit covered finger pushed inside him. The sensation was odd, unfamiliar, but his desperate body welcomed every inch of it. Daryl added another finger, curling it just so, and Glenn could hear his pulse pounding, felt his knees weaken and his whole body thrummed with pleasure.

"You like that, huh?" he heard Daryl chuckle behind him.

Glenn felt his legs shake as Daryl hit that spot again, his arms barely holding him up against the wall, his voice having deserted him for loud, desperate whimpers. And then the fingers disappeared. Glenn found himself torn between mourning their loss and being relieved from the overwhelming sensations. The room righted itself, just for a moment, as he sucked desperate breaths into his lungs. Then Daryl pressed himself against his back, something hard and damp nudging at his ass.

"You ready?"

Glenn had barely nodded before Daryl pushed in, his cock stretching him in ways he'd never thought possible, and somewhere in the back of his mind, Glenn was aware that it _hurt_. But his skin and his veins were on fire, his blood burning, and he needed this, he needed- Then Daryl hit that spot, and he turned into a shuddery mess again.

Daryl's hands were on his hips, his body no longer pressed tight against Glenn's back as his thrusts got harder, deeper. Glenn's hands were slipping against the wall as he tried to hold himself up, tried to push back against Daryl, taking everything he could get. Somewhere beyond the racing of his pulse, he could hear Daryl, panting with each thrust, soft grunts escaping his lips. Glenn could feel the tension in his arms, the blood pulsing in his cock as it was buried deep inside him, the too tight grip on his hips, the desperation. One of Daryl's hands moved to Glenn's head, pushing it down, bending him further, and the next thrust caused a white flash behind his eyes. For a second, Glenn thought he might have seen heaven.

And then Daryl's other hand reached round for his cock, matched the brutal pace of his thrusts. All of the frustrated arousal seemed to centre on one moment, before Glenn was coming so hard, he was pretty sure he died in the process.

When he came back to himself, he was sprawled on the floor of the clean room, sore in unfamiliar places, a hot burn of embarrassment replacing his fading arousal. Daryl was already half-dressed, tucking his softening cock into his underwear. Glenn shifted awkwardly, suddenly feeling exposed. The movement caused a sliver of come to slide out of his ass, and that was something he didn't need to think about right now. He quickly rinsed himself off, struggled back into his wet clothes. The room was deafeningly quiet once he'd switched the water off, and Glenn found himself searching for the right words to break the tension.

"Thanks," he said eventually, "that was-" but there were no words that quite fit. Somewhere between amazing and terrifying and unbelievably fucked up. He settled for leaving it open-ended, instead heading for the door.

"Glenn." There was that growl to his voice again, and Glenn swallowed nervously, not wanting to deal with whatever this was right now. Yet when he turned around, Daryl was smirking. "Never knew you were such a screamer."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Several people requested a sequel, and now this is turning into a huge multi-chaptered beast. I apologise for this chapter as it's mainly Glenn being a bit angsty and trying to get over it by having sex with Maggie (yes, there's a little het in here). Hopefully a bit more will happen in the next chapter!
> 
> Comments are always lovely, by the way!

_Sample 5_

_Codename:  Strangetimes_

_Dosage: 15mg in aerosol form_

_Symptoms: Patients show signs of hysteria, fever and intense arousal, culminating in an increased urge to copulate. If untreated, substance restricts oxygen flow, resulting in coma and eventually death._

_Treatment: Vaginal (female) or prostate (male) stimulation relieves patients of all symptoms. Penetration is often required._

_Side effects: Some patients reported increased libido, decreased impulse control and a tendency towards exhibitionism. Others became withdrawn and showed signs of PTSD, though this is likely due to the psychological effects of the events that occurred._

_Possible uses: In small doses, 'Strangetimes' could be used as a Viagra substitute, although this is unlikely to be cost effective. It could also be applied as a non-lethal weapon or for political purposes. Please advise how to proceed._

_Note: Substance is lethal on those affected with the virus._

 

***

 

They didn't talk afterwards, only staying at the research facility long enough to pick up Judith's medicine and some miscellaneous antibiotics. Daryl also leafed through the papers where the spray was still sitting, waiting for its next victim, and Glenn turned away. He didn't need to know the exact name of whatever he'd ingested; didn't want confirmation that the last hour of his life at actually happened.

They left soon after, Daryl slipping some crumpled paper into his pocket and leading them outside, where the midday sun was hanging high in the sky. It was harder to keep a safe distance on the bike, Glenn shifting for minutes, trying to hold awkwardly onto the seat whilst keeping his crotch away from the danger area that was Daryl's ass. It was impossible, and for a while Glenn found himself wondering if the other man had some kind of gravitational field, or was actually a literal sex magnet. Eventually Daryl snarled at him to just hold on, and Glenn reluctantly reached for Daryl's waist. He tried to ignore the close proximity as he ended up pressed against Daryl's back, the reverse of their positions in the shower, and Glenn almost groaned in frustration at the reminder. Their clothes were still annoyingly wet, clinging to every muscle as Daryl shifted the bike into gear and set off, and Glenn really had to stop looking at the movement of those arms, had to stop thinking of that mouth, of Daryl deep inside him. He had to stop thinking of what had happened before it drove him crazy.

It didn't help that he could feel the soreness in his ass over every bump in the road.

There was the usual fanfare at the prison; the rest of the group rushing to the gates to welcome them back. They don't mention it, but every time anyone leaves their little family, the ones remaining feel bereft, like they're missing a part of themselves, the threat of death clouding every moment. As Glenn and Daryl climbed off the bike, unscathed, he could sense the relief in the air.

There was a chuckle from Rick - who's been a lot calmer, a lot saner lately, even if it took a busload of Woodbury survivors to do it - as he noticed their wet clothes.

"Clean room," Glenn tried to avoid the full explanation, tried not to flush at the memories.

"Lovely cold showers they got there," Daryl added. Glenn kept his focus on Rick, whose expression had turned to worry.

"Walkers?"

"It's deserted, just some leftover experiments. Short round decided to use some as perfume." Daryl was perhaps trying to tease him, though it washard to tell since Glenn couldn't look him in the eye.

Rick's frown lessened, but he still looked concerned. "Should probably let Herschel have a look at you."

Glenn ended up being poked and prodded (and not in a good way) on Herschel's bed, with Maggie hovering in the doorway. And even though they didn't know much of what happened - at least the whole ultra horniness leading to surprisingly hot gay sex with Daryl bit - it still ranked as one of the most awkward experiences of his life. It really shouldn't be - after all they had no reason to be suspicious and there's no way in hell they'd ever guess what actually happened. Yet when Herschel casually asked, "Any symptoms?", he pretty much jumped out of his skin.

"No, everything's normal," Glenn squeaked, his voice deciding to have a little fun with him. Damn his crappy poker face and complete inability to lie.

Herschel presses a large hand to Glenn's forehead, checking for a fever before fumbling for a thermometer and shoving it in Glenn's mouth.

"You're running a little high, nothing a little rest and plenty of water shouldn't sort out," was the eventual diagnosis, after the most uncomfortable five minutes of Glenn's life (not least because he was sure he could feel Daryl's come still leaking out his ass). "Otherwise you're fine."

Glenn could practically feel the relief emanate from Maggie, the smile radiating from her face. He returned it weakly, struggling to look at her and feel anything other than guilt.

The two of them headed back to their cell, ended up cuddled together on their too small bunk bed.  Maggie's soft touches and caresses on his skin did little to calm his racing heart, the sense of panic setting in, and he barely heard her as she told him about the private room she'd found somewhere in the prison.

"Maggie," he finally interrupted her, needing a moment to just freak out without anyone worrying about him. "I'm a bit tired."

Once he was alone, Glenn pressed his hands over his eyes until the world around him faded, and he finally managed to stop thinking.

 

***

 

When he woke, the smell of canned food filled the air and there was an cicada-like hum of voices echoing through the prison. It still felt strange, having all these extra people living with them. And even though he supported Rick in his quest to save everyone in the world, Glenn couldn't quite shake the feeling that they were being invaded.

Their group had been close knit for so long, had become his family, and now Carol's gentle comments, Rick's softly spoken plans, were lost in the roar of a hundred voices.

And it wasn't so much that Glenn minded the addition of the new people - mostly children and the elderly, on the run from a crazed madman who enjoyed shooting people far too much; as if they could turn them away - they just didn't fit.

Glenn knew the others, their little family of misfits, better than he'd ever known anyone. He knew the story of Rick's first homicide as a cop, how he'd thrown up on seeing his first dead body and had to explain it to forensics. He knew Beth's favourite song, could recite it word perfect, albeit tunelessly. He knew the precision with which Carol folded laundry, the way she used cleaning to cope with the messed up world, keen to control at least one small part of it.

He knew the last time Herschel had a drink, the care Daryl took with his arrows, the fact that Carl slept holding the sheriff's hat, the way Maggie laughed when she was truly happy.

He knew nothing of these new people, the Governor's cast-offs, and trying to find out suddenly seemed exhausting.

Of course, now Glenn knew Daryl a little too well, even if the incident was a little hazy. He knew that Daryl was somewhat inclined towards men (and, okay Daryl had never mentioned any ex-girlfriends, but Glenn had figured he was just a bit of a loner); that he'd have sex with Glenn to save him from drug-induced penis explosions; that he'd get on his knees if Glenn begged in just the right way.

And why was he even thinking about this again? It was bad enough he had cheated on Maggie, was keeping this huge secret from her, and now he was getting hard thinking about another man. Now was not the time for the obligatory Big Gay Freakout.

Perhaps instead he could drag Maggie away after dinner, find this private room she'd been telling him out, and show himself just how straight he really was.

 

***

 

The room turned out to be nothing more than an old broom closet (and Glenn found himself wondering if there was any significance of him being in the closet if there was a woman in there with him) with a few old mops and buckets and a dusting of cobwebs. But it had a door and it was far away from the rest of the group that they didn't have to worry about being interrupted.

Maggie had her top off before the door was fully closed, her hands on his face as she kissed him, and it seemed she needed this almost as much as Glenn did.

"I missed you," she whispered between kisses, her lips soft and smooth under his.

Her breasts were as magnificent as ever, and as her rolled her nipples under his fingers and listened to her moan, this morning couldn't have seemed further away. He licked her until she came, relishing the sweet musk of her juices, trying to mop up every drop.

And then she'd dropped to her knees.

Perhaps this had been a bad idea. Because as much as he loved Maggie, it was nowhere near the best blowjob he'd had today.

She's sucked at the head, stroked the shaft, pulled off gagging when he thrust too hard. Her rhythm was a little awkward, since she had to stop for air every few minutes (and it was clear Daryl definitely had some sort of superpower, even if it was something as bizarre as being really awesome at blowjobs). She didn't swallow either, pulling off in time and ducking out the way so he didn't come on her face.

The worst thing was, usually he'd have counted it as pretty amazing sex, would have thought he was the luckiest guy ever to get to be with a girl as beautiful as Maggie. Today he found himself imagining muscled biceps, dirt smeared stubble and a mouth that could destroy the strongest of wills.

When he came, he thought of Daryl.

 

***

 

That night, Glenn lay awake listening to the voices downstairs.

"You're sure you're okay?" Carol, ever the worrier. Glenn could imagine her as if he could see her, standing over Daryl, that usual motherly concern on her face.

"Don't you think I'd tell you if I wasn't?" The words were softened by the tone; he was humouring her.

And a little laugh. "No?"

Glenn listened to Daryl's answering chuckle, wishing somewhat that he could see the smile on his face.

"Don't worry about me, didn't even touch the stuff."

"And Glenn?" There was a pause, as if there was a silent conversation happening alongside the spoken words. "Something's not right with him, I can tell." Glenn could now imagine her sitting down across from Daryl, resisting her natural urge to make physical contact, to reach for his hand. "Did something happen?"

A soft growl, a change in tone. "You don't want to know."

"Daryl-"

"Just leave it." This time a snarl, almost protective, though it was unclear who he was trying to protect - Glenn or himself.

The next morning, Daryl's gaze seemed to burn into his skin. Glenn headed out on watch without stopping for breakfast.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glenn and Daryl end up back at the research facility.

The days passed as they always did, a blur of canned food, petty arguments and walkers snapping their jaws like undead piranhas. Avoiding Daryl turned out to be surprisingly easy, even if it meant ignoring the worried looks from the rest of the group as Glenn kept to himself. In truth, it turned out to be pointless, since Daryl was blatantly avoiding him back, heading out hunting at dawn every day and coming back in the evenings with strings of dead squirrels that made the younger children cry and the older ones gaze in awe. And though Glenn appreciated the readdition of the stringy meat, the tiny bit of variation to their diet, he couldn't bring himself to join the reluctantly grateful thank yous of the rest of their little family - he still couldn't look Daryl in the eye, let alone talk to him.

In group moments, Glenn stayed quiet, figuring his shitty poker face couldn't screw him over if he didn't open his mouth to lie. Of course, the relative peace couldn't last.

Rick had started holding morning briefings, slipping back into the role of leader as if he hadn't tried to dismantle the Ricktatorship only a few weeks earlier.

"I've been thinking about this research centre," Rick began, and Glenn suddenly felt like Wile E Coyote watching the ground disappear underneath his feet. "And I think it's worth another look. They may have extra supplies we need, especially with the addition of more people to the prison."

"It would be worth stocking up the medicine supplies before the place is overrun with walkers," Herschel added.

"That ain't no problem." Everybody turned to look at Daryl, save for Glenn who was staring at his shoes. "Walkers won't go near that place."

"It's only a matter of time," Rick cut in. If Daryl wanted to argue further, he kept it to himself.

Glenn bit his lip, feeling uncomfortable. He had a feeling he knew where this was going, and he wished he could just stop time, delay the inevitable for another few hours or days. Sadly he wasn't Hiro Nakumara, and just had to let it happen.

"Glenn, Daryl. Since you know the place, it's probably best you go have another look, see what you can find."

Every muscle in his body tensed, Glenn couldn't think of what to do other than nod. 'I might accidentally have sex with Daryl again' was hardly the best excuse.

"Kid don't need to go." And, seriously, was Daryl reading his mind again, or was his poker face really that bad? "I can go alone."

"Glenn nearly died last time," Maggie piped up. Glenn was feeling more like a Damsel in Distress by the second.

"I can go." Apparently his pride was more important than not possibly humping Daryl again.

Glenn was pretty sure Daryl was glaring at him, and if Glenn cold figure out how to glare at himself, he'd probably join in. Instead he nodded as Rick set out a plan and Herschel gave him a shopping list of drugs, most of which he'd never heard of.

They took a car - thankfully no more having to cling to Daryl - so they could load up supplies. The walkers thinned out as they neared the facility, none of them venturing near the red brick building, and there was something very odd about that - the idea that there could be a place that not even walkers dared to go. He didn't mention it to Daryl, didn't want to break the awkward silence between them, the knife edge balance between peace and actually dealing with this thing.

As they parked up, Daryl cleared his throat softly. "I got this," was all he said, like he expected Glenn to wait behind, to wait in the car like a child.

Glenn shot him his best attempt at a death glare, sure Daryl was trying to suppress a laugh, and climbed out of the car.

The building was eerily quiet, like something out of a horror movie, though as long as it stayed out of porno territory, it was fine with Glenn. Of course, his mind was already taking him back to their last visit, remembering the calm before the storm, the happy camaraderie before he messed everything up.

"Don't spray anything in your face this time," Daryl murmured.

Glenn had another attempt at his death glare, trying to express all of his frustration in one look. Daryl just looked at him as if he was an angry puppy, something akin to fondness and humour on his face.

The main lab was large, desks and unidentifiable equipment strewn all over the place like it had been set up by a nerdy giant with bumbling hands. An array of filing cabinets spanned the back walls, some of them labelled with what had to be codenames: _Pegasus, Greyskies, Strangetimes, Rebirth_. In the corner next to a rack of lab coats lay an office, the name on the door followed by a ridiculous string of letters. Daryl headed for it immediately.

Glenn found himself hovering, scared to touch anything, unsure whether to head to the store room alone and wondering why the hell he'd come along if he was going to be useless. He settled for rifling through the filing cabinets, trying to find if the scientists had created anything remotely useful, which seemed highly unlikely considering they'd inventing penis-exploding Viagra. _Pegasus_ , he was disappointed to learn, had nothing to do with making people (or horses for that matter) fly; instead it was more like the intelligence enhancing drug Bradley Cooper took in Limitless. Sadly, it didn't seem to work - the case files all pointed to schizophrenia and paranoid delusions. _Greyskies_ was the baffling concoction of a depression-inducing drug (and what did these scientists have against people, anyhow?). He was pleased to read it had been abandoned after it worked a little too well. _Strangetimes_ (and could they not think of a less ridiculous name?) was what he'd inadvertently taken - he quickly shut that drawer with a clang. Glenn was just looking into _Rebirth_ when he heard Daryl shout from the office.

Daryl was emptying the contents of an office cabinet into a duffle bag, an uncharacteristic grin on his face. Figured that a least one of these creepy scientists would be an alcoholic - there was enough booze in there to get an elephant drunk, as well as several cartons of cigarettes and some mysterious white powder that Merle would probably have been all over. Glenn found himself smiling for the first time in days - trust Daryl to sniff out the alcohol stash - and, remembering Herschel's list, headed off to the store room.

He found Daryl outside some time later, a look of bliss on his face as he smoked a cigarette, the happy sighs of a true smoker. Glenn leant against the wall next to him, helping himself to the pack - he'd never been much of a smoker, only the odd puff on nights out with friends, but now seemed like the perfect time to light up.  Anything to distract himself from the way Daryl was practically moaning each time he exhaled.

The taste was worse than Glenn remembered - best described as dry smoky death - and the smoke burnt his throat as it slid down to choke his lungs. Glenn coughed at the unfamiliar sensation, ignoring the chuckle coming from the man next to him. Damn Daryl for making smoking look so cool, looking like some old movie star, James Dean reincarnated. Daryl watched him as Glenn took another drag, the burn in his lungs a welcome distraction from the way Daryl was sucking hard on his cigarette, the not entirely unpleasant reminder of what Daryl could do with that mouth.

"Could have done with these last time," Daryl remarked, offhand, like it had been no big deal, and for a moment Glenn really wanted to hit him.

But Daryl was looking at him expectantly, something young and unsure hidden underneath all the swagger, and maybe this was why they were really here: to clear the air. And, okay, maybe Glenn had been a bit of a dick about the whole thing - avoiding Daryl, punishing them both for something that had been out of their control.

"Thanks," Glenn said eventually, uncertain how to express the mess of his mind. "I mean, for-" he paused, not really wanting to articulate what had actually happened, to admit it, "-helping me."

Daryl just shrugged. "No big deal."

"It really is, man. The things you did." Glenn felt himself flush at the memory, embarrassment and arousal fighting for control. "Are you even-"

Daryl cut him off with a glare, his sexuality apparently a no go area. "Do it for any of you," he mumbled."

And Glenn didn't doubt it, that Daryl would sacrifice himself for any of their family back at the prison. He'd do the same himself. But there was something about how quickly Daryl had sunk to his knees in the clean room, how little persuasion he'd needed when they didn't even know what was going on, that made Glenn think there was perhaps more to this.

He didn't mention it, glad the air was at least mostly cleared between them, and together they headed back to the prison, the silence a little more comfortable than before.

 

***

 

They had a party that night, just their little family, making a substantial dent in the bag of booze. Herschel understandably took watch, keen to be away from such temptation; Beth shortly joined him, taking baby Judith for some air. Maggie curled up next to Glenn as best she could in uncomfortable prison chairs, and they shared a bottle of vodka between them, taking turns to drink from the bottle. Carl sat with Daryl, attempting to join him in gulping down whiskey, wincing at the taste and trying to hide it. It was easy to forget, sometimes, that Carl was just a kid, was growing up in a world where sneaking beer and fumbling behind bleachers was a thing of the past. Rick and Carol sat watching, both chuckling, though Glenn couldn't help wondering if Carol wished her daughter could have been there, engaging in the awkward ritual. Michonne sat back from the rest of them, the alcohol making her usual stoniness give way to a look of sadness. Glenn had a feeling she was thinking of Andrea.

Rick must have noticed the same thing as he raised a toast, "To those we've lost."

A gloomy silence fell over the room, everyone remembering lost loved ones. Glenn thought of T-Dog, of his quiet selflessness and the way he didn't get involved in pointless quarrels. He thought of Andrea, the fierceness she used to hide her vulnerability, her determination to keep everyone safe. And he thought of Merle, the man who had tormented him and then sacrificed himself for them, for his brother.

Glenn met Daryl's eye across the room, and knew he was thinking the same thing.

They all raised their glasses. "To those we've lost."

The evening continued, the mood lifting slightly as Michonne began to open up, telling them of her winter with Andrea, the friendship they'd formed. Rick reminisced about Lori and Shane, telling old stories that made everyone laugh and Carl look at his dad with a hint of that old hero worship. Maggie disappeared after a while, needing to be with her family, to reminisce about Otis and Patricia and Jimmy with people who'd really known them.

Glenn watched Daryl across the room, the conversations around him seeming to fade away as if he was underwater. Daryl was swigging whiskey from the bottle, those lips, that mouth wrapped around the neck, and Glenn was too drunk to push away the thoughts he'd been trying to avoid. He wanted Daryl, wanted that mouth on his cock again, wanted to explore every inch of skin, trace every scar with his tongue. Glenn shifted in his chair, his pants suddenly too tight, remembering the way Daryl had dropped to his knees in the shower, had just let Glenn fuck his mouth.

He must have been watching for too long, since Daryl strode over and sank into Maggie's recently vacated chair.

"The hell are you staring at?"

The words came out before Glenn could stop them, like his brain and tongue were no longer bothering to communicate. "Your mouth, I was staring at your mouth."

Daryl swore under his breath, grabbed him by the collar and dragged him out of the room. They ended up in an unused cell, just far away enough to talk without the others hearing, as long as they kept their voices low.

Daryl pinned him against the wall of the cell, hands fisted in his shirt, and if he didn't know any better, Glenn would say he was angry.

"What the hell you talking about, kid?"

Glenn's hand reached out of its own accord, fingers tracing the lips he'd been staring at. Daryl jerked back in surprise, licking where Glenn's fingers had been. Glenn reached out again, and this time Daryl opened his mouth slightly, took a finger in and sucked. That was all it took, Glenn urgently ripping his jeans open, pushing Daryl to his knees, desperate to get that mouth on him again. And even though this would have to be the last time they did this, Glenn knew he would never quite get enough of that mouth.

Through his hazy mind, Glenn had been hoping he'd remembered wrong, that the drugs in his system the last time had amplified the sensations. But if anything it was better, the warm suction, the way Daryl just swallowed him down. He threaded his fingers in Daryl's hair and thrust, his cock slipping down Daryl's throat as he swallowed, and, fuck, he wasn't going to last long.  Glenn set a fast, brutal pace, unable to stop staring at Daryl's lips stretched round his cock, his eyes closed, Daryl moaning around him, and nothing could ever be as good as this, no matter how hard he tried not to want it. Then Daryl slid a finger behind his balls, ran it over the pucker of his ass, and Glenn was coming, the world roaring around him as he let himself go.

He sunk to his knees afterwards, joining Daryl on the floor where he was fisting his own cock, eyes screwed shut as if he was trying to deny what was happening. Glenn kissed him, a mixture of gratitude and desperation, tasting himself on Daryl's tongue, a surprising lack of disgust at the flavour. The kiss was sloppy, messy, Daryl groaning in his mouth, and Glenn slid a hand down to help get him off, wrapping a hand around Daryl's and thumbing the wet head of his cock. Glenn quickened the pace, kissed harder, his tongue in Daryl's mouth - desperate to make Daryl come for reasons he could barely describe sober, let alone on a drunk orgasmic high. Daryl pulled away from the kiss, pushed his head into Glenn's shoulder as if trying to bury himself there, and came over their joined hands.

They sat there on the floor of the cell, panting, waiting for the awkwardness to come. Glenn was expecting Daryl to brush him off, to run from the room without even looking him in the eye. Instead he reached for Glenn with his clean hand, caressed his face in a way that was almost romantic. The kiss was entirely unexpected, a chaste brush of lips, a message Glenn couldn't quite decipher.

"Probably shouldn't have done that," Glenn said eventually, killing the moment.

Daryl just chuckled, getting up to rinse his hand in the cell's small sink.

"We're okay, right?" Glenn asked before they left, all cleaned up and ready to go back to the party. "This isn't going to make things weird?"

"Don't worry, kid." Daryl couldn't quite meet his eyes, was staring at a spot on the wall behind him. "It's like it never happened."

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after the night before.

 

Glenn woke with a foggy head chasing half-remembered dreams, the sleepy pained confusion of someone who's drunk too much and lived to tell the tale. A warm body was curled next to him, peaceful face smiling in her sleep. Glenn took a moment to watch Maggie, dark hair ruffled over her beautiful face, the love of his life, the woman he was to marry. He loved her, he did: it made sense and they _fit_ , like they were supposed to. So why did he feel like something was horribly wrong?

It was only when he leaned over to kiss her that he remembered: Daryl on his knees, licking and sucking and swallowing; Daryl coming over their joined hands; the way Daryl had kissed him, caressing his face; Glenn kissing back in some previously unrealised desperation, like he didn't have a beautiful girlfriend, like he'd been alone for years.

Glenn fell back on the pillow, wishing the memory could just unwind itself, could never have existed. Somehow cheating on your girlfriend when drunk was much worse than doing so under the influence of fuck-or-die drugs (and, seriously, who invented this stuff?). _I had sex with Daryl to stop my penis exploding_ sounded a lot more forgivable than _I was drunk and begged him to suck me off._

Fuck.

Then there was the fact that Daryl was a man. Glenn was cool with guys being gay, he'd just always considered himself to be way too into boobs to consider cock-on-cock action. And yet he'd jerked Daryl off, swallowed his moans, felt him come all over his hand, and it had been one of the most erotic experiences of his whole life.

It was time for the Big Gay Freakout. But, firstly, breakfast.

As he sat shovelling down disgusting prison porridge, Glenn found himself studying their group, wondering if he was about to accidentally have sex with any of the rest of them. Beth was pretty, blond and young, and if it wasn't totally weird that she was his girlfriend's sister, he'd probably crush on her a bit. Michonne was striking but so amazingly intimidating that he couldn't even consider her that way in cause she read his mind and ninja-chopped his head off. Carl was just a kid; and the thought of sex with Herschel was so wrong he immediately wanted to bleach his brain.

Rick, however, did have something to him. The man had the whole dark anti-hero thing going on, brooding leading man, handsome even behind that epic facial hair. Hell, he was basically Batman, only without the gadgets and costume and freaking awesome car (and how useful would a Batmobile be now? Why were there never fictional armoured cars around when they needed them?)

So, did he want to bonk their esteemed leader? The thought seemed wrong - the guy's wife had just died - but it was probably best to know sooner rather than later.

Rick's beard would probably be scratchy against his face, kind of like Daryl's stubble, only longer and bushier and much less fun. His chest was large and hairy, bulkier than Daryl's, and while Daryl was a coiled up spring of intense hotness just waiting to happen, Rick reminded him more of a giant teddy bear.

Well, good news there. At least he had secret gay feelings for only one of his friends.

The other thing to wonder, of course, was whether he'd had crushes on men before and just not realised it. He quickly ran through all his old friends, sister's boyfriends, that young French teacher with the accent that made all the girls in his class swoon, even movie stars whose perfect airbrushed features had stared out at him from cinema screens. And though he could see objectively that some of them were hot, could understand why his old girlfriend had drooled over Orlando Bloom, why his sister had gone out with Ross Wheeler, he just didn't feel it.

Turned out he was just gay for Daryl. Glenn had no idea if that was better or worse.

Anyway, back to the original plan: avoid the crap out of Daryl in the hope that he didn't end up having sex with him again. Shame Daryl hadn't gotten the memo and decided to annoy him while he was on watch, creeping up behind him and practically shouting Glenn's name in his ear. Bastard knew he had a hangover, probably knew about the Big Gay Freakout, what with his creepy mind-reading skills. Last thing he needed was to feel Daryl's warm breath on his neck.

"What do you want?" Glenn asked, worn out and exasperated, sounding far too much like Andrea used to before her morning coffee.

Daryl just shrugged, like Glenn should already know what he wanted, and Glenn had a horrible feeling he did.

They stood in awkward silence, Daryl glaring at the walkers through the fence as if he could make them drop dead with a look, Glenn trying to subtly shift further away from the goddamned sexy bastard in case his cock should take over his brain again.

Okay, maybe they should talk about this.

"Last night," Glenn began, not sure where he was going with this, about to blurt out something ridiculous about Daryl's mouth and the way booze made it freakishly attractive, when Daryl interrupted him.

"Thought we weren't going to talk about that."

Annoyingly, his stupid brain didn't register this was a get out of jail free card. "Look, you're really hot and badass and hot and everything-" Daryl smirked at this "-but I was really drunk, and something weird happened with those drugs, and last night was all kinds of amazing but we really shouldn't-". Glenn took a breath trying to remind his tongue how to talk in sentences. "I have a girlfriend, so maybe you should stay away from me."

Daryl hit him with a death glare, and Glenn pretty much peed his pants. "You're the one that came after me, kid. You think I wanted this?"

"Yes." The word slipped out before he could stop it, and oh good God, he was going to die. "I mean, I guess? You weren't exactly reluctant."

Daryl stepped away, punched the fence, leaned his forehead against the metal mesh. Glenn was a little worried he'd somehow broken him. He stepped closer, wondering if Daryl had a reboot switch. He settled for a barely there hand on the arm. It seemed to work, since Daryl had whirled them round and pinned him to the fence in seconds.

"What do you want from me?"

Oh god, the sexy growl again. Worse still, Daryl's lips were mere inches from his own, that mouth was just _there_ , waiting to be taken.

Glenn really couldn't do this again. It was just hard to remember why when Daryl was looking at him like that, his hand loose on Glenn's neck almost like he was holding him.

"I love Maggie," he managed, his last attempt at stopping this.

Daryl's face shit down, as if he'd locked all the desperate lust away.

"You do, don't you."

It wasn't a question. Daryl stepped back, removing his hands as if Glenn had burnt him.

They said nothing more after that. Daryl just headed for the gates, past the reaching walkers and into the woods, crossbow slung on his back as always.

It was three days before Rick sent out a search party.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Random Daryl backstory. Warnings for homophobia and hints of child abuse. Daryl/OMCs.

When Daryl was a kid, he saw a group of men from the neighborhood beat up a guy in the street in broad daylight, his pa and Merle in among the fray, ferocious grins on their faces. He'd found Merle later, asked why, back in those years before he knew not to.

"He's a sick bastard, that's why," his brother had told him, lighting a cigarette, knuckles still bruised and bloodstained.

It was only years later that Daryl realised they'd put the guy in hospital just for being gay.

***

He didn't have friends much growing up, tended to keep to himself, alone with nature. He'd run into Billy in the woods one day - a classmate he'd barely noticed the few times he bothered going to school. Billy had been throwing rocks at birds and Daryl had shown him the crossbow Merle had gotten him for his fifteenth birthday, how to take down a bird in one silent swooping shot. They'd met up most days after that, drink stolen whiskey and sharing a tatty old blanket for warmth on colder nights. Except one day Daryl had woke pressed too close to Billy, his cock hard against Billy's thigh.

"What are you, a fag?" Billy had sneered at him, young face contorted with a well-learnt hatred.

Daryl didn't see him for days after that, itching for a fight, wondering why he hadn't broke Billy's nose the minute it happened, why he'd frozen like he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't. Billy finally cornered him in the wood, had him on the floor before he could fight back, punches raining down on him, and despite the pain Daryl found himself distracted by the way Billy's crotch was rubbing against his. He could tell the moment Billy noticed his hard-on from the widening of his eyes, the way he stilled on top of him. Daryl hadn't really expected Billy to crawl up his body, unzip his jeans and shove his cock in his face And Daryl never really understood why he went along with it, had let Billy fuck his mouth, had groaned around his cock like it felt good.

He learned to suck cock, those few months before it all blew up. Most afternoons he'd be on his knees in the woods, Billy's cock in his mouth, Daryl trying not to think about how hard it made him, how much he fucking loved it. Billy never touched him back, ever did more than thrust into his mouth, and yet Daryl went to the woods every day he could, desperate to be used. He came in his pants the first few times, glowing red as Billy noticed the growing wet patch, the hateful sneer back on his face like he hadn't just come down Daryl's throat. Over time, Daryl learned to control himself, would wait until Billy was gone before taking himself in hand and splattering tree trunks with his seed. Daryl never even thought to ask for more.

Course, at some point Merle must've seen them. His pa had beat him so hard, the belt marks are still visible on his skin after all these years. Billy didn't get off so lightly, so he heard, though Daryl never saw him again.

***

He spent his twenties in and out of bars, and the less Merle and his pa knew about the alleyway behind that place in Atlanta, the better. He'd found it by accident when drunkenly roaming, had stumbled upon two guys going at it if they didn't know how wrong it was. He'd stood staring for a bit, booze addled mind ignoring the urge to run away, and someone had noticed, had offered him sex like it was no big deal. The man had sucked him off in that seedy alleyway, the sensation miles better than the clumsy licks of the few girls he'd been with. He'd relished the way the guy groaned when Daryl sank to own knees, swallowed him down like it was Billy, and they were still in the woods.

Daryl didn't go there often, only when the urge got too great, not running the risk of his aging pa or Merle finding out. He first fucked a guy after an argument with his brother, the pent up rage leading him to the familiar alley, the warmth of a mouth somehow no longer enough. It had been a stranger, some creep with a moustache that had leered at him, and he'd let Daryl bend him over and dumpster like it was an everyday occurrence. The rubber of the condom had hampered the sensation, yet the unbelievable tight heat clenching round his cock had him coming in minutes. The guy had just chuckled and guided Daryl to his knees.

It wasn't long after that when the dead started walking.

***

He hadn't even wanted the kid at first, even if he grudgingly respected the way Glenn had put himself out for goddamn strangers. The kid had an infuriating optimism, a bright open smile, like he hadn't had all the optimism beaten out of him yet. And, over time, Daryl found himself more and more determined to keep it that way.

It was the night at the CDC that screwed him over, when they'd relaxed in safety unaware that Jennings was planning to blow them all up the next day. Glenn tended to forget the concept of personal space when drunk, had plastered himself to Daryl's side as they sat swigging cheap wine on an uncomfortable sofa, rested his hand on Daryl's thigh like they were already something. The alcohol made it seem easier to give in, to admit what he wanted, to start something without the worry of Merle coming back.

The kid had fallen asleep before Daryl made a move, drooling slightly on his shoulder.

Daryl had been glad when Maggie came along, the kid finally getting some action, the temptation taken away. Glenn was happy, his face lighting up around her, and if Daryl wanted to shoot the bitch with his crossbow, that was his fucking problem. It didn't matter anyhow, he had a family, had a group relying on him, Rick turning to him for advice, Carol for comfort. And even though he left them for Merle, they still took him back, nothing but gratitude and goddamn love, and sometimes Daryl feels like he's in an episode of the Brady Bunch.

Even after Merle died, and there was another Cherokee rose in the yard, the last reminder of his upbringing burnt to ash, at least he'd been able to think straight. Hadn't been taken over by this desperate wanting burning under his skin, this possessive urge to just lock him and Glenn in a cell together and never come out.

All because of that goddamned research centre.

Worse bit is, he wouldn't take it back. Much as the memory of the kid in the shower, desperate and begging to be fucked drives him crazy every spare minute, he wouldn't get rid of it if he could. Wouldn't want to erase the full-blown lust in Glenn's eyes that night at the prison, the way he'd run his fingers through Daryl's hair as he fucked his mouth, the feel of the kid's hand on his cock, the taste of him on his lips. And even though Glenn went running back to his girlfriend as if he hadn't clung to Daryl in that abandoned cell block, even though the whole thing's inevitably going to go to shit, he wouldn't change a goddamn thing.

Fuck.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a bitch - hope it turned out ok.

That first day, the first evening without Daryl, after the canned food and the glaring empty seat as they ate, Rick cornered Glenn.

"Daryl hasn't come back," Rick stated, as if any of them could have not noticed. Their group felt smaller without Daryl, bereft like after he left with Merle, a big empty space needed to be filled with teasing comments and an ever-present crossbow. "You saw him last, did he say where he was going?"

Glenn swallowed, almost an audible gulp, trying not to remember Daryl pinning him to the fence, their almost kiss. "I don't know," and he was pretty sure he was blushing like a schoolgirl, tried to compose himself. "We kind of argued."

Rick's eyes narrowed. "Anything I should be worried about?"

It was certainly something Glenn was worried about: the way Daryl had pulled away, his features closing down - it reminded him too much of the way Daryl had reacted after they found Sophia, the way he'd done his best to disentangle himself from the rest of them. It wasn't something he could explain to Rick, or even himself - the complicated, fucked up mess between them.

"No, it was nothing."

***

The general consensus was that Daryl had gone hunting, was tracking some game, maybe a deer, and had spent the next night in the woods. Anyone else, there might have been more concern but this was Daryl, the man practically lived in the woods, could hear walkers coming from miles off, could take care of himself. Carol still spent the day watching the gates, wringing her hands, something akin to motherly concern she tried to cover with false smiles and comforting words.

Glenn tried to keep busy, ignoring the part of him that was glad he didn't have to deal with Daryl right now, didn't have to cope with that desperate lust that could swallow him up at any moment. He remembered his words, _stay away from me_ , like he could just remove Daryl from his life like they had Herschel's bitten leg. Glenn was becoming pretty aware he'd been a dick. Daryl was his friend, was _family_ , wasn't just some meaningless one night stand he could toss to the side. Daryl was the one who'd screamed his name when was taken by the Vatos, who'd fought by his side the night Amy died, who'd saved his life on numerous occasions and never expected anything in return. Daryl had put aside years of inbuilt prejudice to get to know him, had made him laugh and listened to his rambling stories. And Daryl had sat with him that night at the CDC, shared cheap wine, let Glenn lean against him for comfort, had covered him with a blanket when he passed out.

Daryl had saved him at the research facility, had let Glenn paw at him, had helped him out in a time of desperate need - and whether he wanted to or not was almost irrelevant. Glenn was the one who'd opened this can of worms, who'd decided playing with unmarked containers in a biological lab was a good idea. And then, once they'd cleared the air, Glenn had chased him again, pretty much begged Daryl to suck his cock then blamed him the morning after.

Glenn was officially the biggest douche in the universe. His only explanation was that his own brain had some kind of evil vendetta against him, was trying to destroy every good bit of his life.

Still, he could make this right. He wasn't sure how, since his cock tended to take over around Daryl, but he could do it. If only he could figure out what the hell he wanted.

***

Rick called a meeting that night, Daryl having been gone for over a day, and they gathered between the cells, talking quietly to avoid alarming the Woodbury survivors of the problem.

"Something isn't right," Carol said softly, seeming to have lost some of the strength she'd gained since Ed died, like it was tied to Daryl.

Rick stood close to her, put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "We don't know that there's anything to be worried about."

"But what if the Governor's got him?" Beth asked, eyes wide as ever.

"We haven't seen anything of the Governor since he left Woodbury. We don't even know if he's still alive."

"Daryl could take him out," added Carl, rewarded with a sad smile from Beth.

"Maybe we should look for him?" Carol asked, though Glenn doubted she was volunteering to risk her own life in the woods.

"Daryl left of his own accord. We'll only find him if he wants us to." Rick let out a sigh, looking old and worn. "We wouldn't even know where to look."

"The man probably just wants some space," Herschel cut in, calming the group. "He'll come back when he's good and ready."

The group settled down after that, talking in small groups or heading to their cells to sleep. Glenn ended up talking to Michonne, remembered that she knew the Governor better than any of them, how she'd helped save him and Maggie when they were taken.

"Do you think it's possible, that the Governor's got Daryl?"

"He ain't got him." Michonne turned to him, eyes dark. "Or you better hope he ain't: the Governor would probably shoot him on the spot."

A lump of ice seized around his throat as the words sunk in, Michonne stalking off without another word, never one for long conversations. The images settled like poison in his brain: of Daryl still on the ground, a deep round hole in his forehead, or worse, of Daryl with yellow skin and dead eyes, consumed entirely by a hunger for flesh.

As everyone retired for the night, Glenn headed for the cell Daryl had reluctantly moved into. Clothes lined the floor, spare arrows piled neatly in the corner, the sheets a crumpled mess on the bed. Glenn collapsed on the small mattress and let the familiar musk ease him into a restless, dreamless sleep.

***

Glenn spent the next morning filled with a desperate need to find Daryl, everything seeming just wrong without him there, somehow worse than the last time he left them. Rick was clearly in the same predicament, spent hours staring at maps; and the worst thing was that after all this time, none of them knew Daryl well enough to work out where he'd gone.

Carol kept herself busy, cleaning Daryl's cell, scrubbing the floor and washing the bedding Glenn had curled up in the night before.

"Can't have him coming back to a mess," she said, over and over, her usual optimism back in full force.

Glenn ended up patrolling the borders of their territory, obsessively checking every entrance, moping like a moody teenager. He ended up in a staring contest with a walker on the other side of the fence, lacking the motivation to stick a knife through its skull. The rest of the group watched him, concerned, and as the sun reached its highest point in the sky, Maggie came to talk to him.

"Glenn, what's going on?"

He eyes were bright and warm, worry clear in them. Glenn found himself vaguely annoyed that she'd made him lose the staring contest.

"Nothing's going on." He had a feeling his crappy poker face was failing him again.

"It's not nothing! You didn't even come to bed last night." She reached for him, laid a hand on his arm, an unwelcome gesture. "You've been acting odd since you and Daryl went to that research centre-"

The eureka moment hit him so hard, Glenn half expected to see a cartoon light bulb hovering over his head. He ran to the nearest car, started the engine.

"Don't follow me," he told Maggie through the open window, waited just long enough for Tyreese to open the gate, and drove out onto the road.

***

The research centre was as creepily deserted of walkers as ever, and Glenn's footsteps echoed as he walked through the empty lab. He found Daryl in a plush office, stretched across a leather couch with a bottle of whiskey in one hand and his crossbow in the other, the latter pointed lazily towards the doorway.

"You here to bring me back to the fold?" Daryl asked, words slightly slurred, lowering the crossbow almost reluctantly.

Glenn tried not to stare at the pile of dead rabbits and squirrels on the table: Daryl's favourite form of stress release. He stood awkwardly in the doorway, unsure if he was welcome in the room.

"I was a dick," he began, a rambling speech forming in his brain.

"Yeah, you were." Daryl didn't look at him, studying the bottle in his hand like it was his only love.

"I'm sorry, okay?" The words tumbled out after that, an honest mish-mash of thoughts. "I'm just so confused, this whole thing's just fucked up, I don't even know what's going on. I just thought if we stayed away from each other, that would stop it but-" he paused, could tell from the tension in Daryl's shoulders that he was listening, trying not to react. "I just feel wrong without you."

Daryl still didn't look at him, but swung his legs off the couch, held out the whiskey as a peace offering. Glenn sat down next to him, took the proffered bottle, and Daryl finally met his eye.

"Fucking kid." But he was smiling, just slightly.

Glenn tried not to think of Daryl's mouth on the bottle as he took a swig, tried not to notice the warmth of the other man, those strong arms that always seemed to be pinning him to things. It didn't work.

"This isn't going to stop, is it?"

The words were muttered so quietly he nearly missed them, Daryl talking to the floor as if he wanted no one else to hear them: "Hope not."

All the pieces seemed to click into place in that one moment, the rest of the world fading away as Glenn finally admitted defeat, and as he slid a hand over Daryl's denim-clad thigh to his crotch, it didn't seem like the stupidest thing he'd ever done; more like the bravest.

Daryl grunted as Glenn's fingers reached his cock, rubbing it the best he could through the jeans before reaching to awkwardly undo the flies.

Neither of them said anything as Glenn sank to the floor between Daryl's legs, as if it was a debt to be repaid, Daryl wriggling his jeans down his hips, freeing his cock from the denim, already half hard. Glenn thought the fact that his own cock was straining against his jeans, achingly erect, probably said a lot. He'd never even thought of sucking cock before, and now he was desperate to get Daryl in his mouth.

The taste wasn't that strange, just a more concentrated version of Daryl's musk. He took the head in his mouth and sucked gently, experimentally licked around the tip and listened to Daryl's sharp intake of breath. Glenn took more of Daryl's cock into his mouth, stretching his lips a bit wider, and felt a sudden jolt of arousal. There was something amazingly filthy about having Daryl's cock in his mouth, having Daryl panting above him, musk and sweat on his tongue. He sucked harder, bobbed his head a little, and a muttered curse fell from Daryl's lips. It was possibly the hottest thing Glenn had heard in his life, even after years of internet porn. Suddenly it was all too much, and he hurriedly reached for his own jeans, touching himself with one hand while holding the base of Daryl's cock with the other. He began to suck in earnest, moaning around the length in his mouth, thrusting into his own hand. Daryl was breathing heavy, his hands curled into fists on the couch, hips lifting erratically as if trying to get more of Glenn's mouth.

Glenn pulled back, gasping for breath, somehow lacking the ability to suck and breath at the same time. Daryl whined at the loss of his mouth, looked down at him with a mixture of lust and frustration, mouth hanging open and panting. Glenn licked a stripe up his length and Daryl honest-to-God whimpered, so he did it again and again until Daryl was thrusting his hips in a silent pleas. And then Glenn leaned forward and sucked again, moving his hand over the flesh he couldn't fit in his mouth, losing co-ordination as he approached his own orgasm, pulling off and moaning into Daryl's thigh as he came in his own hand.

"Sorry," he murmured, a little embarrassed at his lack of stamina, his voice slightly hoarse.

Daryl jus reached for his own spit-slick cock, eyes wide. "Jesus, kid."

Glenn batted his hand away, wrapped his own around Daryl's cock, used his come as lubricant, and with a few firm strokes had Daryl spilling over his fist with a groan.

Glenn licked his fingers out of curiosity. It tasted salty, a little bitter, but not too bad. The heated look Daryl gave him made it worthwhile, and he leaned forward and cleaned Daryl's softening cock with his tongue.

"Good?" he asked, crawling into Daryl's lap, eager for closeness, to know this wasn't over the minute they'd come.

"You're going to be the death of me," Daryl murmured, awkwardly settling his arms around Glenn's waist.

Glenn kissed him softly. "Hope not."

 


	7. Chapter 7

Glenn had to admit the whole thing had gotten a little out of control. Before, he'd at least had creepy pharmaceuticals or too much whiskey to blame. This time he'd sought out Daryl out of a different kind of desperation, had brought this all on out of something bigger than lust. He'd sucked Daryl's cock, felt the warm weight in his mouth, and Glenn was pretty sure he'd do it again. Because it wasn't just lust, some delayed urge to experiment or even to just have a different warm body under him. This was _Daryl_.

Kissing him now wasn't a lead up to something, wasn't foreplay, the preamble to the main event. This was kissing for the sake of kissing, for the feel of Daryl's chapped lips against his, the soft brush of his stubble. It was damn near romantic.

Glenn pulled away for a breath, his head swimming. Things had gotten a bit surreal, what with him straddling Daryl Dixon, both of them with their pants undone, damp naked cocks rubbing against each other. Not that he was complaining (especially about that last bit). It was time to stop running away from this, time to stop freaking out at every opportunity, using Daryl as some kind of fuck toy and then dropping him like a hot potato. The fact was: there was something here, something big. At some point, Glenn had started falling for Daryl without even realising it.

It was probably something they should talk about, though it was hard to think straight with Daryl panting in his ear, that warm muscled body under him. It was harder still when Daryl flipped them, had Glenn pinned to the couch, legs tangled together, Daryl's hands gripping his wrists like a vice. But then he hesitated.

It wasn't something he'd ever seen before - Daryl so unsure of himself. Glenn had been expecting Daryl to swoop down and claim his mouth, or suck vampire bites into his neck, or reach for both their hardening cocks, start things up again. Yet somehow now Daryl was in control, he didn't know quite what to do. He just hovered over Glenn, avoiding eye contact as if things could still be awkward between them after everything they'd done.

"Daryl?" he asked, confused as Daryl pulled away and perched on the far end of the couch.

"You should probably be getting back." Daryl zipped up his jeans and reached for the whiskey bottle, taking a swig. "Your girlfriend will be getting worried."

It was like Daryl had thrown a bucket of freezing water over him. Glenn reminded himself not to think about Maggie - he couldn't deal with the thought of her disappointment right now. Instead he let his anger rage, the frustration of the last few days bubbling over.

"You don't think anyone's worried about you? You don't think it's hurting us, you pulling away like this? Carol's a bag of nerves, Rick's close to losing it again and I'm-" There was no way to finish the sentence, possibly not even enough words in the English language.

Daryl stared at him for one long moment, as if he was something fascinating, something he couldn't quite work out. Then he jumped from the couch and left the room, throwing a _c'mon_ over his shoulder. "You're gonna want to see this," he called when Glenn stayed on the couch. He reluctantly followed.

The main lab was a mess of papers, the contents of the filing cabinets spread out over the tables. Daryl handed him a thin file, the word 'Rebirth' printed across the top. Inside was a scientific report - a neat summary page in between sheets of chemical formulas and grisly photos of the dead. Glenn skimmed the words, trying to make sense of what he was reading.

"They were trying to cure death?" Glenn felt a chill run through his body.

"Turns out they were pretty successful."

The last page of the file showed the effects of the drug, the dead body slowly reanimating, its eyes dead and a snarl upon its face.

"Always wondered where Walkers came from," Daryl murmured, watching the horror on Glenn's face. "Now we know."

 

***

 

Glenn ended up back on the couch in the office, staring off into space and trying to get his head around the fact that he was essentially at the birthplace of Walkers. This was where it had all began, where a group of scientists had tried to play God and ended up bringing on the apocalypse. Millions had died, the world full of walking corpses, all because science had tried to fix the one absolute certainty of life. The world was destroyed because someone couldn't accept that life eventually had to end.

He was about halfway towards setting the whole place on fire, destroying the evidence of the obnoxiousness of man, when Daryl came back into the room, placing a very familiar looking canister on the table in front of him.

"Is that-?" Stupid question, since of course it was the goddamned spray that had started it all, the industrial strength Viagra that had brought his feelings for Daryl to the surface.

"Need you to keep it with you at all times."

Glenn raised an eyebrow, was about to point out that he didn't exactly need help in wanting to bone Daryl when he interrupted.

"It kills Walkers, poisons them or something. You get in trouble, you use it." Daryl paused, something dark passing over his face. "And then you need to find me."

Glenn nodded, dazed, staring at the innocent-looking canister. Daryl moved in, grabbed him by the chin.

"No one else, you hear me?"

Glenn remembered the first time, the rush of adrenalin, the inescapable lust, how it had taken Daryl's cock inside him for that final, joyous release. He couldn't imagine anyone else making him feel like that.

"Okay," he gasped. "No one else."

Daryl didn't hesitate to kiss him this time.

Daryl's mouth was hot on his, hands fumbling under his t shirt, the skin burning everywhere he touched. Arousal hit Glenn like a freight train, need coursing through him, wanting more touch, more skin. He slid his hands to Daryl's waistband, under the hem of his shirt and Daryl froze, his mouth leaving Glenn's.

Glenn traced his fingers over the raised scars on Daryl's back, pushing away the anger that had consumed him the first time he saw them: Daryl wounded, arrow-shaped hole in his side; helping Herschel remove the shirt to reach the wound; the criss-cross of pink lines across his skin; the way he'd thought _Merle_ and had never wanted to kill anyone more than he had in that moment;  Rick watching with the same rage and murmuring, ' _his father'_ ; the helplessness of not being able to stop it from having happened. Now Glenn slowly unbuttoned Daryl's shirt, never breaking eye contact, revealing marked skin as he pushed the shirt from Daryl's shoulders. Daryl was breathing hard, something akin to panic dampening his arousal, and Glenn slowly dropped his head to a scar on Daryl's chest, kissing it gently as if he could undo its existence.

"If he wasn't already dead," he whispered into the skin, "then I'd kill him."

He felt Daryl let out a shaky breath, tangle a hand in Glenn's hair, and Glenn let his fingers skate over Daryl's back, amused when it drew out a shiver. He repeated the motion, traced the scar under his mouth with his tongue, listened to Daryl's breath hitch. Glenn could feel Daryl hardening against his leg as he ran his mouth over his chest, licking over the marks on his skin, over the firmness of the muscles. He flicked his tongue over a nipple and Daryl thrust his hips against him, let out a low moan. Glenn sucked at the firm nub, licked around it in slow circles, nipped at it with his teeth (Daryl swore at that, his hips jerking).

Daryl pulled Glenn's head from his chest, looking at him with something like awe before pinning him to the couch with a bruising kiss.

Glenn was pretty sure Daryl's mouth was the stuff of legends, a piece of Utopia, a hot searching tongue that should probably be illegal. Daryl kissed him like he was dying and Glenn was the only cure, like he was oxygen - that burning, all-consuming need. And Glenn was whimpering around the tongue in his mouth, his whole body thrumming with arousal, veins burning hot, cock painfully hard in his jeans. He had to pull back, he knew, had to ask for what he wanted before Daryl made him come in his pants. It was just so hard to resist that hot delicious mouth on his, the hands that travelled up his t shirt again, the soft pulls on his nipples - _fuck_. Glenn forced himself to pull away, tried to get his brain to work.

"Have you got lube?" he managed to blurt after a second, burning with embarrassment at the bluntness of the question, the blatant implication.

Daryl just arched an eyebrow, somehow managing to smirk and tease when Glenn could barely function.

"I want to feel it again," Glenn told him, too desperate to be shy. "Without the drugs. I want you inside me."

Daryl fumbled in his pockets, pulled out a small tube - and, Jesus, how long had he been carrying that around? He stood up long enough to remove his pants, erection springing free, and Glenn couldn't resist leaning forward for another taste, a long slow lick along the length. Daryl swore again, pupils blown wide, reaching forward to rid Glenn of his t shirt. Glenn wriggled out of his jeans and turned to lay across the couch, spread his legs wide, nerves lurking beneath the need. Daryl settled between his legs, murmuring his name like a prayer, gently biting the soft flesh of his thigh. Glenn whined, opened his legs wider - a silent plea as Daryl flipped the cap on the lube and coated his fingers.

The first finger slid in smoothly, a slight uncomfortable sensation, unfamiliar but not unpleasant. The pleasure grew with each thrust, nerve endings he didn't even know he had suddenly tingling. And then Daryl curled his finger, hit that spot, and Glenn was moaning, his whole body arching with the feeling, desperate for more, begging before he even knew it. The second finger stretched him, the hint of pain dissolving the minute Daryl hit his prostate again. The pleasure was a burning white light filling the room, the whole universe dissolving away until it was just Daryl and his searching fingers, rubbing and thrusting, each movement making blood pulse in his cock until he was sure he was going to come without even being touched. Then the fingers disappeared, and Glenn was whining again, impatient as he watched Daryl slick up his cock.

Daryl hooked Glenn's legs over his shoulders as he pressed in, splitting him in two with his cock, and though the pain was more pronounced this time, Glenn was too far gone to care. Daryl felt big inside him, filling his ass and, fuck, it shouldn't feel this good to be stretched this way. It was intense, the way Daryl's cock was reaching previously unchartered territory, each newly touched set of nerves singing with pleasure.

"You alright?" Daryl asked once he was fully seated.

Glenn just whimpered, ignoring Daryl's answering chuckle.

Each thrust felt like a godsend, the awkward ache fading away as he adjusted to the cock inside him, and every movement had him groaning low and dirty, barely recognising his own voice. The head of Daryl's cock brushed against his prostate every time he pushed in, shooting ecstasy through his body, Glenn trembling and moaning, his orgasm building. Daryl's gaze felt hot on his skin, watching every reaction like he was trying to imprint it on his brain. Daryl was fucking beautiful like this: hair hanging over his eyes, sweat beading on his chest, his face slack with pleasure. Glenn pulled him down for a kiss - uncoordinated, bumping noses - and he ended up just groaning into Daryl's mouth, hands grappling for any skin he could get hold of. His cock was trapped between their bodies, the sweat-slick friction enough to pull him to the edge, and Glenn was pretty sure he was moaning Daryl's name as the world disappeared in a flash of light and he came over his stomach. Daryl let out a string of curse words interspersed with grunts of pleasure, and with a few more thrusts he was stilling and coming deep inside Glenn.

"You always carry lube with you?" Glenn asked when he could breathe again.

Daryl laughed into Glenn's shoulder where he'd collapsed, his body pressed close against Glenn's, softening cock still seated in Glenn's ass. "Never know when you might need it," he muttered, carefully pulling out. Glenn tried not to wince at the strange sensation, the feeling of Daryl's come dribbling out of him.

There was something oddly romantic about Daryl carrying lube around, just waiting for Glenn to seek him out. Something a little sad too.

"How long?" Glenn wasn't talking about the lube anymore.

Daryl avoided his gaze. "Too damn long."

Glenn curled himself around Daryl on the couch, cushioning his head on Daryl's chest. "We've got to do that again," he murmured, missing Daryl's smile as he settled into his arms and drifted off to sleep.


End file.
